


Must Be Good To You

by ArielFabulous



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band), Paramore
Genre: 16 and 18, Alternate Universe - High School, Drinking Games, EVERYONE IS A GIRL UNIVERSE YAAAAAY!, F/F, Femslash, Genderswap, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, Schmoop, So much schmoop, cisgirl!Harry, cisgirl!Louis, except no liam sorry :(, not even a little bit sorry about the schmoop, oh wait almost forgot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielFabulous/pseuds/ArielFabulous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is hopelessly in love with her friend Louis, and has no idea how to handle it.  </p>
<p>Loosely inspired by the song ‘Blow’ by Beyonce, roller rink and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Must Be Good To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissC0tt0nC4ndy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissC0tt0nC4ndy/gifts).



> MissC0tt0nC4ndy, I hope you enjoy this! I kind of blended your prompts a bit? Hope that's okay.
> 
> Oh, and I own none of the characters, and this is a work of fiction, which means I made the whole thing up. Except the drinking game. That's real.

Harry is lying flat on her arse in the middle of the roller-rink when she realizes for the umpteenth time in as many months that she is screwed. Like, completely utterly fucking screwed. And it’s all Louis’s fault. Louis, with her perfect shiny brown hair and perfect sparkling blue eyes and perfect devilish smile and perfect perfect round pert arse-- nope, can’t think about that because Louis is skating right over to her right now, and--

 

“Harriet Styles, you absolute newborn baby deer, is it possible for you to skate ten metres without falling on your bum?” She comes to an easy stop next to where Harry is lying in a crumbled heap. Ugh, she is such a spaz, and yet Louis is standing in front of her smiling down, in her in her stupid white jean shorts and stupid red scoop neck tee, somehow endeared by Harry’s clumsiness.

“Here, c’mon, upsie daisy, I can’t abandon poor Bambi in the middle of the meadow. The hunters could get you!” Harry sees a flash of white teeth and Louis’s open hand. Harry takes it and lets herself be pulled up.

And wow. Harry feels all the blood rush to her head as she is swooped up, her legs almost buckling under her again. Louis quickly grabs her waist to steady her, and oh god, Louis is smiling at her, and she is so, so pretty and Harry is so, _so_ fucked. If all the blood hadn’t just rushed to her head from being pulled up from the ground, she might be in some position to form a sentence of gratitude. She licks her lips and smiles.

“Thanks, Lou. Sorry I keep falling over.” is what Harry _hopes_ she says, because there is no way that she could possibly form a coherent thought looking down at Louis. She is adorably petite and curvy compared to Harry’s current membership to the Beanpole Club, and she finds their height difference intoxicating, though she would deny it to the end if asked.

“It’s fine darling. You sure you’re alright?” Louis says, wearing a half-concerned slash half-amused smirk as Harry nods a little too enthusiastically and tries to put herself back in order. She pats down her dark brown chin-length curls, quickly adjusting the pink headscarf wrapped around her head. She accepts that her hair probably looks terrible as she moves on to fuss with the white ribbed tank under her white floral spaghetti-strap romper, her face pinching in embarrassment as she realizes that her rompers are very far up her arse. It is the pinnacle of uncomfortable, and she needs to un-pick it _right now_. In front of Louis. In front of all the people skating by who are staring at the two people not skating in the rink. Shit. Fuck.

 

Harry goes to rub her tailbone, planning to subtly tug her romper down, only to find that Louis’s hand is still on her waist, accidentally brushing her fingers over Louis’s ever-so-lightly. _SHIT_ , she thinks, _ABORT ABORT_ , changing her plan mid-course to inspect the damage on her tailbone with her prodding fingers. Yep, definitely a bruise forming, and the pulsing back pain she feels now will hopefully subside into a nice dull pain sometime later tonight. At Perrie’s. With Louis. Oh buggering fuck. And of course, Louis is still looking at her sweetly with concern, and it’s making Harry’s heart melt, despite the extreme discomfort of her epic wedgie as well as the budding pain in her back and arse. _Jesus, looking at Louis is like looking at the sun_ , Harry thinks, feeling her face burning but somehow not being able to pull her eyes away.  _Oh shit, I've definitely been staring too long_ , Harry thinks, dropping her gaze to the floor, realizing that she should probably, you know, respond to Louis. With words. Yeah, words. Those things.

 

“Nah, ‘m fine, but I think I’m done with… the whole… skating… thing…” she says trailing off in her usual way, and Louis immediately pouts opening her mouth to protest, “For now!” Harry quickly interjects, “Just for now, I think I just need a break. Gonna, erm, get a Fanta and… spectate for a few songs. Rest my poor bum.” She smiles sheepishly, patting herself lightly on the arse.

“Well, if it’s in the interest of your poor bum, I suppose its a worthy cause.” Louis says, and they both giggle.

“Agreed,” Harry says, automatically shuffling her feet a bit, only to remember that the shoes she is currently wearing are skates. “Whooah!” she shouts, almost completely wiping out all over again, were it not for Louis’s steady hand on her waist. Louis’s laugh tinkles out again and Harry tries to remember how to breathe.

“Alright, since you are obviously a danger to yourself and others whilst wearing shoes with wheels, may I escort you to the edge of the rink where you can remove these skates, a.k.a. Harriet Styles Death Traps, before you brain yourself on the floor?” Louis says. Harry nods gratefully, and with a witchy cackle, Louis skates around behind her, and begins pushing Harry forward with both hands on her hips. Harry squeaks at the loss of control, but lets Louis push her to the break in the rink’s metre high walls. Louis hands are warm and steady on her hips, and Harry’s mind involuntarily flicks back to earlier that week when her hands were in the same place...

 

\---

 

It happened this past Monday. _The Bathroom Incident_. Harry had been running late to gym class, and after getting changed out of her school tie and skirt and into shorts and a t-shirt, she had heard the muffled sounds of crying coming from the toilets adjoining the locker room.

 

“Hello? Is everything okay in here?” Harry said to the apparently empty bathroom. Then, a sniff and a rustle of fabric.

“Yeah, everything’s f-f-fine. Who’s there?” The tiled bathroom made every sound echo, but couldn’t hide the unmistakable voice of Louisa “Louis” Tomlinson.

“Louis? Is that you? It’s me, Harry.”

“Oh er, hi Harry. Um could you just--- um…. let Herr Dipshit know I’ll be a little late? Just tell her I’m spurting blood out of my vagina or…. um….whatever--” at which point Harry hears Louis’s voice break, and then another sniff. Harry would normally have smiled at Louis’s ‘affectionate’ nickname for their P.E. teacher Ms. Dokuchitz, but the epithet just sounded out-of-place when said in Louis’s wobbling voice.

 

“Louis, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright.” Harry can hear her forced smile through the tears, and makes to leave, but then stops. _This is the point_ , Harry thinks,  _where I say okay and I leave. But... I can’t. She’s my only friend in this class. None of the other year 10 girls in this gym class like me. She’s year 12, she didn’t have to be nice to me or be my passing partner for field hockey. She’s my friend, and I...fancy her_. At least she can admit it to herself, that she thinks of Louis as more than a friend. She sighs, steels herself, and carefully walks up to the stall door.

 

“D’you want to talk about it? It’s alright if you don’t, but like… y’know… I’m here if you need me?” She asks tentatively. Louis could easily tell her to fuck off, and that would be that, but Harry wants to help her, and wants Louis to want her help. After a long moment of lip-biting, Harry hears a long, shuddering sigh from the stall, and some fabric rustling.

 

“Yeah, alright. c’mon in.” Harry hears the click of the door lock opening, and Harry gently pushes the door open. Louis sitting on the toilet, and looks a right mess. Her messy bun messier than usual, her cheeks ruddy from crying, her school skirt haphazardly pulled up around her hips, and her school polo shirt wrinkled and untucked. Even so, Harry can’t help but notice how bright her blue irises look in contrast to the bloodshot whites of her eyes. _Even when she looks her worst_ , Harry thinks, _She still takes my breath away_. Harry closes the stall door, and backs up against it.

 

“Oh Lou. What’s happened?”

 

Louis puts her head in her hands, and the whole story comes blubbering out. How she and her boyfriend Stan had hung out in his car during lunch, “just fooling around”, and she had ended up giving him a blowjob. She says it causally, like she does that all the time. Harry can’t imagine being so casual about someone else’s dick. But then again, she’s never had a boyfriend, or ever wanted anything to do with blokes or dicks.

 

“And like, after, when I was like, hey what about me? He was just like ‘oh we have to get back we’re gonna be late’, which was total bullshit right, he totally had enough time to finger me and get back, and I told him so, and it just turned into a whole row about how ‘I’m a demanding little slag’ and how ‘he’s a selfish prick’,” Louis’s words are sharp, but her chin starts to quiver again. She continues. “So basically, I’m here crying in a toilet stall trying to wank myself off, except I’m so bloody mad at him that I can’t make myself come and just… ‘m sorry Harry, this probably sounds so pathetic…” Louis continues to wipe at her nose and eyes with pieces of toilet paper, and then Harry has an idea. A lost-all-her-marbles batshit insane idea.

 

“I could help with that.” She heard herself say because Harry is, if nothing else, helpful. She’s practically Mother fucking Theresa. Louis had just stared at her, mid-wipe. Harry’s eyes go wide as her brain goes into full panic mode. _What were you thinking, you just ruined everything, why did you say that? What the fuck is wrong with you?_

 

Louis spits out a laugh. “What?”

 

_Oh goddamnit Styles. Just commit to it. It’s just a joke right? Right?_ Harry waggles her pointer and middle fingers in the air for a moment.

 

“Um, y’know. Help!” Harry says with what she hopes is a bashfully cute smile, which Louis returns with a giggle and a hiccup. _This isn’t a porno you idiot, there is absolutely no way she would be up for it--_

“Wait, are you serious?” Louis says.

 

See, if Harry is honest with herself, she’s wanted to make Louis come for weeks. She’s touched herself more than a few times thinking about Louis’s golden curves and what her pussy might taste like. But the last place she’d imagined discovering those things was in a toilet stall in the girl’s locker room. Also Louis wouldn’t be crying. But if Louis was up for it…well, she would be prepared to... amend her fantasies.

 

“Erm, yeah?” Harry bites her lip. “But like, only if you want me to.” Louis blinks at her, considering for a moment, then gives Harry a short nod.

 

“Sure, okay. Let’s do this. How d’you want me?” Very suddenly, Harry finds herself watching Louis swiftly lift up her skirts and pull down a pair of pink cotton panties. Harry feels a little lightheaded at the sight. _Oh God, this is actually happening I was not prepared fuck fuck fuck I want this so much but this can’t be happening--_

 

Louis looks up at Harry expectantly, her eyes still red-rimmed from crying. “You ready?” Louis asks Harry. And Harry really wants to say yes. She really does. Except she can’t seem to do anything but stare wide-eyed at Louis. Louis, who is radiant like the sun. Louis, whose pretty pink lips still look puffy from--no don’t think about it. Louis, who looks rumpled and frail and about to burst into tears at any second, surrounded by bits of toilet paper still damp with her tears. _Don’t do this_ , says a quiet but sure voice in Harry’s head, _it’s not the right time_.

 

“Louis, are you sure this is a good time?” Harry says in a small voice, trying to look Louis in the face, but unable to stop herself from flicking her eyes to her pink panties dangling between her ankles.

 

Harry stops breathing, and everything is in flux.

 

Louis face flashes with anger, but it’s quickly replaced by embarrassment as she looks at herself. Her face crumples she puts her head in her hands and starts sobbing again, the sound hurdling off the walls and jerking Harry out of her panic-induced haze.

 

“Hey Louis, hey, I’m so sorry. C’mere.” Harry kneels down in front of where Louis sits, pulling her trembling torso into her arms, Louis unable to do anything but cry into Harry’s gym shirt for a good minute. She feels warm but fragile. _Oh God_ , Harry thinks, _I’m so gone for her. I never want to let go_.

 

When Louis finally calms down a bit, Harry holds on for an extra few seconds longer, running her hands up and down the length of her back, then reluctantly lets go. “You’re right Harry, I’m such a fucking mess right now.” she says, grabbing a new piece of toilet paper and blowing her nose with it, wincing a bit at its roughness. Harry sits back on her heels, crossing her arms in an attempt to chase Louis’s lingering warmth and feel less empty. She watches Louis breathe until she stops shuddering on the exhale.

 

“We should probably go back” Louis says in a far away tone, her gaze vacant, as if she were remarking upon the shade of puce coating the walls of the toilet stall. Harry checks her watch. They’re already nearly 15 minutes late to class.

“Yeah. Probably should. I think we’re supposed to start handball today.” Harry responds in a similar flat tone.

“Really? I love handball!” Louis says, her watery expression perking up a bit. Harry looks at her in disbelief.

“No really, it’s actually very fun! I played it when I was in your year. I was rather good.” she says. Harry must laugh along, because soon enough Louis is laughing too. They laugh together, and Harry wants to exist in this moment forever, the moment where she is laughing with Louis and everything is perfect, even though it really isn’t.

 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Harry asks seriously when their giggles dissipate.

“Yeah, I think so.” Louis looks into Harry’s eyes and for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, Harry feels like time stops. She wants to say “You’re beautiful” and “You’re perfect” and “You don’t need him”. She wants to say so much to Louis she feels like she could burst.

 

“Okay.” is what she ends up saying. She tries to put so much into a single word. She tries to make that ‘Okay’ mean that Harry would believe anything Louis said because anything Louis thinks is fun must be fun. That she would run around in circles and trip over her own feet and get hit in the back of the head by rubber balls all day if it meant that she got to see Louis smile at her like she’s doing now. Louis’s smile feels warm enough to ignore the twinge in her chest that says _friend friend she only thinks of you as a friend_.

 

“Alright,” Louis says, putting her hands on her knees, breathing in and out once through her nose, “let's get me into some acceptable attire for physical education.” And with that, Louis pulls up her panties, fixes her fringe, and offers Harry a hand. Harry takes it and wobbles up, her long legs twisting around themselves, and Louis puts her hands on her hips to steady her. _Stop thinking about it_ , she intones, _Louis has a boyfriend, Louis is your friend, and that’s that_.

 

+++

 

Louis lets go of Harry’s hips when she gets to the edge of the rink as Harry gingerly steps on to the rubber floor mats. She carefully places one foot in front of the other as she crosses the narrow alleyway, and unceremoniously flops onto a nearby bench. _Ouch, stupid stupid bad idea_. Harry winces in pain and Louis laughs at her with gusto while Harry makes a show of tenderly rubbing the back wings of her narrow hips.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Styles,” Louis says, shaking her head, and biting her lip through her smile. “You sure you’re gonna be alright?” Harry nods, waving her off.

 

“Louis, I’m fine, I swear. Go and find Perrie, or Hayley, or someone else to skate with, I’ll be fine.” Harry says, silently regretting the suggestion for Louis to go find someone else to have fun with. Because that is the exact opposite of what she really wants Louis to do.

 

Louis looks about to respond when, on cue, the song ‘Ain’t Too Proud to Beg’ by the Temptations ends, and easily fades into ‘Blow’ by Beyonce. Of course, Louis’s face lights up. “Oh my god, I love this song! Can I just skate this one song without you? I’ll be right back, I promise!” Louis pleads with a toothy smile. Harry blindly smiles back and shoos her away with a few flicks of her wrist. Louis blows her a kiss as she skates away to the opening verse of the song ( _I kiss you when you lick your lips…must be good to you_ ), and Harry exhales, willing herself to spontaneously gain the power to merge with other objects so she can sink into the wall. That would be nice. Become the wall. No responsibilities. No school. Never again enduring the pain of being hopelessly in love with your friend. Win-win all around.

 

Her attention is pulled away from Louis as the pain in her back becomes a more insistent throb, and her attempts to assuage the ache by massaging her lower back seem to be futile. All she can seem to do is watch Louis gliding on skates round and round the rink to Beyonce crooning about “licking skittles” and “sweetest in the middle”. Harry lets herself watch Louis’s thigh muscles flex as she pushes her skates out, holding hands with Perrie and Hayley, screaming as they go around each turn. Just when Harry thinks watching is getting to be too much, Louis skates past her, winking and running her tongue over her top lip seductively. Harry’s brain effectively short-circuits in the short time it takes for Louis to pass her, so all she can manage in response are wide eyes and a slack mouth. _Well done Styles_ , she thinks. _Smooth. Now she definitely wants to go on a date with you and let you lick her pussy every single day until you both die_. She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall with a thud, wincing at the pain. _Fuck_ , she thinks, _now I’ll have a bruise on my head AND Louis thinks I’m an epic spaz AND I still haven’t unpicked my romper-wedgie. The evening couldn’t possibly get worse_.

 

She sits up and unpicks her wedgie very conspicuously, when she hears someone calling her name. Harry looks up to find the one and only Niall Horan leaning over the edge of the rink, her backwards red snapback at a slight angle, and with a look of genuine concern on her face.

 

“Shit Haz, that was an epic tumble you took there, you okay?”

 

“Noooooo,” Harry groans, flopping backwards against the wall, wincing at the familiar pain. Niall exits the rink with only slightly more grace than Harry, and plops down next to her, assuming a similar defeated posture in jest. Niall gives her best friend a knowing pout, and pokes her in the ribs. Harry cringes.

 

“Heeeey those could be bruised.”

“No they’re not, ya great oaf. You’ll be fine. You may be the clumsiest idiot in England, but your arse will recover.”

“No I won’t and I will live in shame for the rest of my days. My tombstone will read ‘Harriet Styles: Died of Shame From Falling on Her Arse in Front of Her Crush’. I’ll have to move to Australia to escape the jeering hordes.”

“Nah that won’t work. I already have video of it. Even Australia has the internet these days.”

Harry gives her a cold sidelong glance.

“You wouldn’t…” she says faux-menacingly. Niall just laughs like the irish leprechaun that she secretly is.

“No course not, I’m saving it for yours and Louis’s wedding video!” Harry’s mouth opens in horror, and elbows Niall in the side. Niall squawks and pinches Harry’s arm in retaliation and soon they’re just swatting at each other like they’re six not sixteen. At a certain point, they stop, gasping for air after laughing so hard. Niall is the first to speak up.

 

“But seriously Haz, did ya talk to Louis yet? Y’know, about Monday?” Harry had told Niall about the events that occurred during the first 15 minutes of P.E. a few hours after it happened when they had walked home after school. Harry shifts uncomfortably on the bench, adjusting her romper.

 

“Sort of. Like, in gym on Wednesday, I asked if she was okay, and she said she was fine...and then we didn’t really talk about it again.” Harry looks at her hands in her lap.

“Wow, sounds like you had a real heart to heart there.”

“Shut up, its not like I can do anything about it. She has a boyfriend--”

“That she doesn’t like--”

“and I’m just her friend--”

“--who offered to shag her in a time of need, which she was well up for--”

“Who was well up for a shag in a time of need?” Both Harry and Niall turn their heads to a bespectacled Zayn Malik, clad in her usual attire of leather jacket, black combat boots, and black everything else. Louis had said that Zayn would get to the rink late because of her figure drawing class, which explains the light black smudges of charcoal on her perfect cheekbones. She looks at the pair of them with raised eyebrows.

 

“Well hello Zayn, best-friend of a certain Louis Tomlinson, perhaps you could provide some insight for us on her inscrutable and emotionally torturous ways” Niall says brightly.

 

Zayn sits down next to Niall on the bench, and drops her bag at her feet. “Wow Ni, sounds like you swallowed a dictionary there.”

“Must be your good influence my dear Zayn,” Niall says, preening at Zayn, who just fondly rolls her eyes.

 

“Whatever. What has Louis gotten herself into now?” Zayn says wearily. According to Louis, Zayn and her have been friends since kindergarten and are partners in crime for life, so Harry thinks that it’s a reasonable guess that Zayn knows what happened. _But to be fair_ , Harry thinks, _she may only know Louis’s side of the story_. Niall gives Harry a significant look.

 

“Should I? Or do you wanna--?” Harry sighs.

“No, I’ll explain. You know that Louis is in my year 10 P.E. class? Even though she's year 12?” Zayn nods.

“Well, um its kind of a long story, but like she and Stan had an argument at lunch on monday, and I found her in a girls’ loo crying, and somehow it ended up with me offering to finger her, which she was up for, but then she just started crying again, and she looked really bad, so we just hugged, and we haven’treallytalkedaboutitsince.” Harry smiles sheepishly at Zayn, whose guarded expression has remained in the realm of ‘lightly curious’. 

“But I don’t think it matters anyway," Harry babbles on, "'Cause I’m pretty sure she doesn’t really like me like that. I mean, she just likes to tease me cause I’m younger than her or something. I’m probably just overthinking the whole thing…” Zayn’s expression shifts from mildly curious to slightly pitying, and puts her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Well, can’t say I know how you feel, but I’ll tell you this,” Zayn looks at Harry for a bit, as if trying to decide what to tell her.

 

“So? Any tips? Pointers? Secret intel?” Niall implores Zayn, to which Zayn responds to by sticking out her tongue at Niall before addressing Harry.

 

“Well, first of all, you really need to talk to her about that mess, coz it’s really not for me to say anything about it.” Harry opens her mouth to plead, but Zayn puts up a hand.

“But, I will tell you a few things. One,” Zayn counts off on her fingers, “Louis is equally embarrassed about what happened on Monday. Two, she and Stan have been in a bad place for a few weeks now, so that might be ending soon. And three,” Zayn pauses, momentarily looking up to watch Perrie and Hayley drag a happily shrieking Louis around the rink to the tune of Whitney Houston’s ‘How Will I Know’. “She can be really cagey and weird about feelings and shit, so you really just need to sit her down and talk about it, yeah?”

 

Harry leans back against the wall with a defeated sigh.

 

“Yeah I know. I’ll talk to her.” Harry figures she might have a chance of cornering her when they all go back to Perrie’s later to watch ‘some sappy romcom’ according to Louis.

 

Niall pats her on the back. “That’s a good girl. Now, lets get back on the rink for a bit ‘eh?” Niall says, standing up onto her skates again to face them. “C’mon ladies, they’re playing Miley!” Niall points to the speakers in the ceiling, and Harry notices the opening guitar riff to ‘Party In The USA’. She shakes her head, and rubs her back, which still hurts from her fall earlier.

 

“Nah, I think I’ve had my fill of skating for at least a few lifetimes,” Harry says morosely, and Zayn gives her a questioning look. “I may have fallen on my arse,” Niall giggles. “A few times. In front of Louis.” Zayn’s face breaks into a smile and when she giggles, Niall looks impossibly endeared.

 

“I even got video of it, wanna see?” Niall says excitedly, and goes to pull out her phone from her pocket. Harry frowns, but Zayn waves Niall off with a whispered “Later”. Niall up-nods at her and winks, dropping her large smartphone back into the pockets of her low riding joggers.

 

“So Zee, wanna get some wheels and skate in circles for a bit?” Zayn opens her mouth to answer Niall, but at that very moment, Louis, Hayley and Perrie come off the rink, a trio of brightly coloured hair (except Louis’s) and breathless laughter.

 

“Alright ladies, I am exhausted.” Perrie says, her hands on her knees, “I say we all pack into Lou’s mum’s minivan and head back to mine for beer, snacks and a movie. Cool?” Perrie looks up through lavender hair for everyone’s approval.

 

“Only if those snacks are nachos!” Louis responds brightly, and they laugh. It appears only Niall is sad about this development, as everyone else nods, and begins to skate/walk over to the counter to return their skates. Louis notices Zayn, and toddles over to give her a hug, then notices Harry.

 

“Ah, right where I left you. Feeling better?” Louis smiles at Harry, then turns to Zayn.  “Hazza here took quite the tumble out on the rink earlier. Shame you missed it, it was quite the spectacle.” Louis says lightly, and Zayn smirks.

 

“Don’t worry, I think Niall got video of it.” Zayn says, to which Louis responds with an ecstatic whoop and a cheeky grin towards Harry. She extends her hands to Harry. “C’mon darling, I will have no more casualties on my hands today. Zayn, I request your assistance in leading poor baby Hazza to the skate counter.” Zayn just chuckles and shakes her head, but takes Harry’s other hand, pulling her up to lead her to where they can return their skates.  Zayn gives her an encouraging smile, which Harry weakly returns. _This is going to be a long night…_

 

+++

 

King’s Cup, Harry has decided, is simultaneously the worst and best game ever. Harry stares at the deck of cards that have been fanned out face down around a single unopened can of beer on a coffee table in Perrie’s basement. ‘27 Dresses’ plays on low volume in the background, and everyone is jovially sitting around the coffee table, either on the floor or on the squashy older-than-god couch. Harry is pleasantly buzzed on one mostly-finished can of beer and Louis’s golden presence.

 

“Hey Curly, its your very first turn, you must recite the rules!” Louis cries from across the table from her seat in the middle of the couch sandwiched between Zayn and Perrie. Harry looks up at her from her seat on the floor, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Everyone else nods in agreement, so Harry sighs and says:

 

“Two is You,

Three is Me,

Four touch the floor,

Five is if you like guys,

Six is if you like chicks,

Seven reach for heaven,

Eight is date,

Nine is rhyme…” Harry blanks. _What is ten? Wait fuck Niall just drew a 10, but all we did was go around the circle and name our favorite sweets until Hayley fucked up and said Mars Bars twice—oh right categories!_

 

“Ten is categories,

Jack is Never Have I Ever,

Queen is Questions,

King is make up a rule,

Aaaaand Ace is waterfall.”

 

Everyone applauds and cheers appreciatively, Harry bows her head a few times, then goes and draws a card from the fanned out arrangement. Hayley apparently learned the game from some local kids the previous summer when she lived her dad’s lake house in the States, and had consequently taught it to their entire friend group, of which Harry and Niall were relatively new members. After 20 minutes of playing, the game was in full swing, and while Harry had nearly zero idea what was going on, Niall seemed to be taking it in stride, having the time of her life. Hayley and Perrie beat out a quick drumroll on their thighs as Harry turns over her card. It is… the Jack of hearts.

 

“Jack is Never Have I Ever, so I guess I’ll start.” Everyone puts up three fingers. “Erm… never have I ever… skated all the way around the rink without falling over!” Everyone laughs and puts a finger down, except Zayn.

 

“What? I’ve never roller-skated.” Zayn says when Louis gives her a look.

 

Hayley is next. “Never have I everrr…. Received a pearl necklace!” Hayley says pointedly towards Perrie, who hits Hayley on the shoulder in response and squeals something about ‘I told you to not tell anyone about that!'. Harry looks at Niall with a puzzled expression.

 

“I thought we were talking about jewelry?” Harry asks.

 

Niall smiles impishly. “It's when a guy comes on your chest.” She says, miming the act by jerking her fist back and forth like she would stab herself, then showing the ejaculation with an explosion of her fingers on her chest. Niall cackles at Harry’s horrified expression. Harry checks Louis hand, but she still has two fingers left. _Oh thank God_ , Harry thinks, _I don’t think I could have handled that mental image_.

 

“My turn!” Perrie says emphatically, tapping her lips with her finger, her eyes sliding over to Louis, who is reaching for yet another nacho from the plate on the coffee table. “Never have I ever…had sex in a car.” Harry feels her face heat up, and Louis’s mouth opens in a perfect ‘o’ shape as Perrie laughs wickedly in response. Louis starts hitting Perrie with open palms, but they are both smiling and laughing, no force behind it. Louis eventually sits back down, and shows off her remaining middle finger. Everyone laughs, and, of course, all Harry can think about is having sex with Louis in a car. The game continues until Zayn gets Louis out with ‘cheated on a test’.

The game continues in a similar way for the next few cards until it’s Harry’s turn again, and she draws a six. _Well_ , Harry thinks, _it’s now or never_.

 

“Well ladies,” Hayley begins, “I don’t discriminate, so I will drink. Anyone with me?” she says, raising her drink. Harry is awash with relief. _OhthankyouJesus I’m not the only one_.

 

“Neither do I!” Harry proclaims as confidently as she can manage, clinks her beer can with Hayley’s, and takes a sip. She peers over the top of her can at everyone’s faces, full of smiles and acceptance, except for Louis, whose gaze is focused on the nacho plate in her lap, her expression stormy. _Well that’s that then_ , Harry thinks, _she doesn’t like girls and she certainly doesn’t like you_. Harry feels the lump in her throat harden, and she abruptly stands up to ask Perrie where the loo is.

 

“Just upstairs love, right by the kitchen back door.” Harry feels herself walk up the stairs and down the hall, stewing the whole way. _How could I have been so stupid? There was no way where this ends up with her liking me. Baby Hazza. Bambi. How could she see me as anything else?_ She grabs the door handle to the bathroom, yanks it open, sits down on the closed lid of the toilet, cringing as her bruised tailbone reminds her of its presence, and pulls the door shut. She puts her head in her hands, and wills herself not to cry. She hears a soft knock on the door.

 

“Harry, you alright in there?” says the muffled voice of Louis through the door, “Can I come in?” Even though the last thing Harry wants to do is see Louis’s face as she lets her down easy, there is a part of her, a very small part, that still thinks there is hope. Hope that Louis might not reject her, might still want her, and might like her back the way Harry does.

 

And that part says, “Ok.”

 

Louis walks inside the small bathroom, and puts her hand on the edge of the sink, her arm stiff and awkward. “So, er, Haz, about what just happened, I’m really—“

 

“No,” Harry cuts her off, “It’s fine. I get it, you don’t have to say anything.”

 

“But, wait, what?” Louis says, her expression shifting between relief and confusion.

 

“You don’t really like girls that way, and what happened in the bathroom earlier this week was… oh I don’t know, a fluke. A spur of the moment thing. It’s fine. Really.” Harry looks up at Louis, who still looks in shock, and Harry just wants to kiss the dumb look off her face, but she can’t, so she barrels on. “And I’m sorry if I made it worse because I like girls, and it’s so very obvious that you don’t, because you have a boyfriend. So, yeah. M’sorry.” Harry looks at her hands, and waits for Louis evaporate into thin air so she can die of awkwardness alone in Perrie’s bathroom.

 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Harry lifts her head.

“But what about Stan?”

 

“Broke up with him yesterday.”

 

“Oh. Why?”

 

“’cause I like someone else.”

 

“Oh. Who?”

 

“Oh, just this girl in my P.E. class. She’s kind of a klutz, but she’s really cute and really sweet, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her since she offered to finger me in a toilet stall just to cheer me up.”

 

“Oh. Wow.” Harry is pretty sure her brain has completely shut down.

 

“Yeah, I think she’s liked me for a long time, but I was kind of a twat about it for a while, ‘cause the whole ‘liking girls’ thing sorta freaked me out at first, until it didn’t, and even then it took me a while to come around and, well, here I am!” Louis smiles too brightly, then stares at her twisting fingers and bites her lip. It occurs to Harry at this very moment that Louis is nervous. _I make Louis nervous. Even if this whole thing backfires, at least that’s something._

 

“Louis?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I kiss you now?”

 

“Oh yes that would be nice—“

Harry stands up and _wow this bathroom is very small_ because she is very suddenly in Louis space and breathing her air and looking at her pink lips. It occurs to Harry at this very moment that she has never actually kissed a girl before, and how does one actually do that? _What are the mechanics of this? Like where do the teeth go? My heart is beating very fast, am I going to pass out--_ Louis’s hands surge up to pull Harry down to her lips, and then Louis is kissing Harry.

Harry finds herself kissing Louis back, her hands coming to rest on Louis’s waist, opening her mouth a little to let Louis’s tongue in. Louis’s hands move from her cheeks to be threaded through her hair, Harry makes a sound she has never made before when Louis tugs at her hair a little bit. They kiss each other with fervor, and Harry is pretty sure she hasn’t actually breathed since Louis’s lips touched hers. Harry tries to memorize each slick drag of Louis’s lips against hers, what she smells like, what she tastes like, which is oddly familiar--

“Nachos,” Harry pulls out the kiss, “You taste like nachos,” she says, fully out of breath, drunk on beer and Louis. Louis looks back glassy-eyed and flushed, but upon opening her mouth to retort, Harry quickly claims her mouth again, as if to say ‘you taste wonderful’. Considering the way Louis is kissing her back and playing with her hair, its like saying thanks. They kiss to what seems like an age when, having gotten into the rhythm of kissing, Harry remembers that she has hands. She pulls Louis’s hips towards her so their bodies are completely flush, Louis moans, deep and throaty.

And, well, it’s very nice. Very nice indeed.

“Hey Harry” Louis says.

“Mmmm what?” Harry says, kissing her way to the juncture of Louis’s jaw and earlobe.

“Do you want to go back downstairs?” Harry pauses.

“Not particularly.” Harry mumbles, and goes back to discovering the topography of Louis’s neck with her lips.

“Ok good. I don’t really want to either.” Louis says, then moaning a little when Harry starts nibbling at her neck.

Harry wonders what Louis skin tastes like, what color her golden skin would turn if she just bit the flesh and sucked.

“Harry” Harry pulls away from mouthing at Louis’s neck to look at her face.

“....Yes?”

“Not that I’m not enjoying the kissing,” Louis starts, biting her lip and casting her eyes down, “But I was wondering if you wanted do that thing you showed me? In my car?” At which point Louis repeats the very same motion that Harry did earlier that week in the puce toilet stall, waggling her pointer and middle fingers in the air, complete with appropriately cheeky smile. A smile which Harry gleefully returns, nodding perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

“Ok let me go downstairs, and grab our stuff, and we’ll go! Back in a tick!” She quickly pecks Harry on the lips, untangles herself from Harry’s octopus arms, and flits out of the tiny bathroom. Harry touches her lips, feeling the ghost of Louis’s lips on hers. _Did that really just happen? Did I really just snog Louis Tomlinson in Perrie’s loo? Does she really want me to fingerfuck her in her mum’s minivan?_ Harry’s eye flutter shut at the thought. She presses her hand between her legs to relieve some of the ache of arousal. She presses just hard enough to feel some of the wetness soak into her underwear underneath her romper, and unconsciously starts to rock her hips down onto her hand. _No stop wait for Louis_ , she thinks quickly, only to have the object of her desire appear before her, two jackets in hand.

“C’mon let’s go!” Louis says, and pulls her out of the bathroom, practically running through Perrie’s house, running out of the front door, unlocking the minivan, pulling Harry in, and suddenly they are kissing again in the very backseat, and this is all happening very very fast. Harry pushes off of Louis and collects herself for a moment.

“Louis, I want this but I--I am really confused? Like, why now? And what does this mean? Like, what are we to each other? I’m sorry but I’m just really confused.” Harry says, a little on the panicked side, and Louis takes her hand.

“Harry, I don’t really know what this is yet. I mean I just broke up with my boyfriend of 6 months, I’m not really in a place to rush into anything yet, I just… I don’t know.” Louis says, playing with Harry’s fingers.

“Louis, I just don’t want this to be a one-off thing. I really fancy you, and I don’t want this...I want this to matter.”

“Oh Harry, of course it will matter! I just can’t say for sure right now…” Louis stops mid-thought, and watches as Harry’s face falls. _Oh no, its fine_ , Harry thinks, _were you were expecting her to give you her varsity pin? Get down on one knee and propose marriage? Get a grip, Styles. This isn’t Grease_. Louis takes Harry’s face into her hands.

“No, no, no, wait wait what am I saying? Of course I want this. You and me, Harry. You and me, my sweet girl. We can do this, right? Tell me you’re with me?” Harry looks up, and Louis face is so so close. She closes the gap, and gives Louis a short but passionate kiss.

“Yeah. You and me?” Harry looks at Louis and the stars shine brighter in her eyes.

“Yes. You and me.”

**  
**When their lips touch again, it is clear to Harry that even in backseat of Louis’s mum’s minivan, everything seems possible.

**Author's Note:**

> MWAHAHAHA now that my identity has been revealed, I can now point you in the direction of how to contact me outside of AO3 should you choose to do so! My main fandom blog is [arielfabulous](http://arielfabulous.tumblr.com) and my one direction sideblog is [thesefiveidiots](http://thesefiveidiots.tumblr.com). THANKS FOR READING!!
> 
> I will leave you with three thoughts:
> 
> 1) I *may* be persuaded to write a smutty postscript.....
> 
> 2) many thanks to my lovely beta!!
> 
> 3) I'll leave you with this quote:
> 
> “I have stolen ideas from every book I have ever read. My principle in researching for a novel is “Read like a butterfly, write like a bee,” and if [my stories] contain any honey, it is entirely because of the quality of nectar I found in the work of better writers.” - Philip Pullman


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